Jazz pulled me onto his lap, and I was reminded of the second time we’d made love, that night at the safe house—how good and new and obvious it had seemed them. Well, third time was the charm—I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. His hands felt strong around my waist, his body hard and comforting against mine. I could have sat there and just kissed him for the rest of the night, like a pair of horny teenagers with nothing better to do—but I knew he had other ideas as his hands roamed downwards to cup my ass. I arched my back forward so I could press against him, and our kiss deepened, promising more.
“Is Ella asleep?” I murmured, and he nodded.
“Out for the count when I dropped her off upstairs.”
I leaned down to kiss his neck, running my lips up the muscle at the side of his throat that seemed to call out to me. He closed his eyes and let out a soft groan—God, knowing that I was getting him off so much was getting me wet already. I moved down, planting kisses across his neck and towards his chest. He was clad in a t-shirt, and, even though it was cold in the house from the month of no inhabitants, he stripped it off quickly so I could continue my journey downwards. I didn’t know why, but I just wanted to please him—just wanted him to know how much I still wanted him, and how nothing that could happen would change that. I slipped further and further down, running my lips over his chest, then his stomach, then the sharp lines that led down towards his hips.
I hooked my fingers over the hem of his jeans and pulled them down—he lifted his hips to facilitate me, and I looked up at him as his jeans pooled around his ankles, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. That look in his eyes—both hungry and helpless—sent a sharp shock of shivers down my spine. I trailed my fingernails down his cock, the fabric not concealing his rock-solid hard-on. I gripped it as best I could through his boxers and squeezed lightly, enjoying the power I had over him in that moment. And fuck, did he look good like this—his mouth slightly open, as though mimicking what he wanted me to do. And how could I not oblige?
I pulled his boxers down and wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, holding him steady. He drew in a sharp breath at my touch, and I smiled up at him—I remembered how he had teased me the first time we had hooked up, and intended to return the favor. I let my mouth hover above his cock for a moment, then flicked my tongue out a couple of times so I could lap up the drop of pre-cum that had oozed out of the tip. He half-groaned, half-growled in pleasure, and let his head fall back as I sealed my lips around his cock and went to work.
I had always enjoyed giving head—there was just something innately powerful about it, something that put me in control. And Jazz was all too happy to let me take the wheel for this, his hands behind his head as I began to slide smoothly up and down the length of his cock. I mean, how was I meant to resist? He tasted so good, filling my mouth, stretching my lips to accommodate him. I flickered my tongue against the underside of him over and over again, matching it to the steady pace of my lips over his erection. He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, and I looked up at him—his brow furrowed slightly as we made eye contact, and his lips parted as though he was about to say something.
I took him as far as I could, meeting my lips with the top of my hand so I could consume every inch of him. His entire cock was slick with saliva, making it hard to tell where my mouth ended and my hand began; I just wanted more, wanted to feel every inch of him in my mouth.
Eventually, I pulled my mouth from his cock and shifted further down, taking each one of his balls between my lips; he moaned, a little louder this time, and I took that as a go-ahead. I traced the wrinkles with my tongue playfully, cupping them in my hand and massaging them lightly as I kissed my way around the base of his dick. I loved the reactions I got from him at every touch, every new movement—as though it was just what he had been waiting for.
Suddenly, he tucked his hands under my arms and pulled me back onto his lap. I was still fully dressed, but I could feel his cock pressing at me even through my pants.
“Can I fuck you yet?” he asked, murmuring the words into my ear as he slid his hands all over my back and down my legs. I nodded, rendered speechless by the feel of his fingers against me.
Without any further encouragement, he flipped me over, so that I was leaning over the edge of the couch, my ass in the air. He pulled down my pants and my panties, and landed a sharp slap on my butt; I wriggled with excitement as I heard him pull out a condom and sheath himself quickly. I was already wet, and made a mental note that the quickest way for me to go from zero to sixty seemed to involve blowing him till he couldn’t resist me anymore.
He positioned his cock at the entrance to my pussy, and eased himself inside of me; even though he could have just started to fuck me there and then, he seemed intent on taking his time, and I was hardly going to complain. I let my head fall forward as I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and then he began to move inside of me.
I had forgotten just how good he felt—in fact, in that moment, all I remember thinking was how on Earth we’d lasted so long without doing this again. He moved his hips in shallow circular motions, his cock hitting every inch of my pussy as he moved—it was as though he was reminding himself how I felt. I shuddered with pleasure, my fingers digging in to the arm of the couch, and I arched my back and pulled myself up so I could grind back against him.
“You look amazing like this,” he murmured into my ear, leaning down so he could grope at my tits through his shirt. It wasn’t making love, like before—no, it was about as far removed from that as it could possibly be. He began to move faster, harder, pushing himself deeper inside of me and stretching my pussy lips out around his cock. This was cathartic—after the build-up of all that stress, all that anger, all that confusion, here we were, fucking over the side of the couch like nothing else mattered but getting off. I slid my hand between my legs, using the other one to prop me up, and began to play with my pussy. My teeth were clenched, my muscles tense, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Going from having zero libido to a full-on horniness left me teetering on the brink of orgasm pretty much right away, it turned out.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he sighed, as though reminding himself as much as me. He moved slower but went deeper, as though he could see how close I was and wanted nothing more than to make me come there and then. He wrapped my hair around his hand and tugged lightly, tipping my head back, so he could watch me—and the mix of pleasure and pain that coursed through my body was enough to tip me over the edge.
“Ah!” I cried, trying my best to keep my voice down so as not to wake Ella. My pussy milked his cock hard, the intensity of my climax causing spackles at the edge of my vision. I slumped down on to the couch, unable to hold myself up any longer, and Jazz moved his hands to my hips to hold my steady while he thrust into me with more purpose before. I could picture his face, even though I couldn’t see it. The tension in his jaw, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips tight.
He came hard, thrusting into me one last time and holding himself there while his cock twitched. He didn’t make a sound, but his fingers dug into me hard and I knew he was holding back peals of pleasure. He slowly withdrew, and I turned over—he leaned down and kissed my cheek lightly as he pulled off the condom, then got off the couch to dispose of it properly. I readjusted myself, and straightaway felt my eyes growing heavy as I lay back on the couch. I yawned widely as he returned, and held his hand out to me.
“Bed?”
I nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull me to my feet. He tugged me against him, wrapping his arms around me. He was still naked, and his cool skin against mine felt so satisfying. I ran my hands up his bare back, and looked up at him.
“I love you,” I blurted out, and my eyes widened as soon as the words passed my lips. It had just felt so right—so obvious. But I wished at once that I could take them back. They were true, but now wasn’t the time to say it, not after—
“I love you too,” he replied, and kissed me again—this was a chaste kiss, one that simply confirmed the words that we had exchanged. He looked down at me for a moment, and then let go, reaching for his clothes where they lay next to the couch. I stared down at him, wondering how the hell I had just pulled that off. I supposed after everything that had happened, there wasn’t much room to hold back on the important stuff any longer.
We made our way upstairs and headed to bed—I peeled off my clothes, with Jazz watching me from the bed appreciatively—I could feel his eyes on me, and had to admit it was pretty damn good having this sexy-as-fuck guy view me the same way. A sexy-as-fuck guy who I was in love with, and who loved me back. I crawled into bed next to him, and he held out his arm so I could curl up against his chest. He turned to press his nose into my hair and inhaled deeply, and then let out a satisfied sigh.
“I’m so happy right now,” I murmured, and it was the truth. I had never felt anything as good as that moment—maybe it was because we’d had to work through so much to get there, but in that second, I couldn’t imagine anything or anyone better suited to me. I let my eyes drift shut, and sleep came over me; and I knew I wouldn’t be kept awake by nightmares or fear or the panic of seeing Ian again. No, this was it—it was over, and there was nothing more anyone could do to fuck things up.